An hour later, the long-awaited ship finally appeared.
Zeke had been pacing near the pier like a caged beast, every minute stretching into an eternity. When the mast crested the bend of the river, his chest tightened. His eyes lit up.
"Eren!" He took a step forward, ready to rush down to the dock, to push through, to finally see his little brother again.
But he never got the chance.
The moment the gangplank slammed down, chaos erupted. Refugees burst out in a blind flood, screaming, stumbling, colliding like panicked livestock.
"Oh—!"
Zeke was knocked sideways before he could react. A hundred bodies surged over him in a blur of boots.
"Oh, shit!"
A scream caught in his throat as weight after weight crushed him flat. He tried to rise but another heel drove into his shoulder, another into his ribs. The wooden planks rattled beneath his skull.
"…"
Flop.
Somebody's knee rammed into his chest, squeezing the breath from his lungs. For a split second, he thought absurdly: So this is how I die? Not by Titan, not by soldier—by stampede.
"Hero! You can't die! If you die, we can't explain it to the captain!"
Hands yanked at his arms. Several Survey Corps troopers fought their way into the torrent, dragging him upright, half-carrying him out of the crush.
"Are you alright?" Corporal Tom's face was pale as he shook Zeke's shoulders.
Zeke's entire body sagged, limp, imprinted with muddy boot prints from head to toe. Steam curled faintly from his skin, clinging in thin threads of white. His voice croaked out weakly: "…I'm fine."
Tom exhaled in relief. "Thank God. With this many people, we'd be trampled flat in seconds. You're lucky." His brow furrowed as his eyes tracked the vapor rising from Zeke's skin. "But… what's that smoke? Could it be… heat from the friction of people's feet?"
Zeke forced a shaky chuckle, seizing the excuse like a lifeline. "Yes… friction. Nothing more."
The troopers accepted it without question, but Zeke's thoughts churned. If even I nearly died underfoot… then what about them?
The flood of people was endless, faces contorted in panic.
"Run!"
"Is it safe here?!"
"Don't stop!"
Men and women shoved, dragging children by the arms, stumbling with bundles of salvaged belongings. The unlucky ones tripped.
And once they fell, they were done for.
"Wait—wait, I'm still down here—!"
Screams cut off into gurgles, into silence. The tide of boots swallowed them, trampling limbs flat, drowning voices in the roar of the crowd.
Zeke froze, horror scraping down his spine. In another life he might have looked away. He'd never cared for nameless faces. But now, with family—fragile, irreplaceable—every crushed body seemed to wear Carla's smile, every scream carried Eren's voice.
Eren was still just a boy. Carla's ankle had been injured in the chaos of Shiganshina. What if they were somewhere in that tide, shoved down, unable to rise? What if their outstretched hands vanished under the weight?
He craned his neck, panic tightening his throat. His eyes darted desperately across the masses. Don't fall. Please don't let them fall.
At last, garrison troops stormed in, shouting over the din.
"Don't panic! You're safe! One by one! There's no need to push!"
Order spread like ripples in water. Slowly, the tide of refugees thinned into a stream, guided by soldiers' arms, by sharp commands.
But the dead remained. Bodies that would never rise again. Flattened beyond recognition, scattered at the edge of the dock like discarded rags.
Zeke's stomach clenched.
He pressed forward until the cordon stopped him. The garrison wouldn't let anyone interfere. The Survey Corps soldiers clustered with him, forced to stand idle while order reasserted itself.
Still, his eyes raked every face, every family.
"Please," he whispered hoarsely, grabbing Tom's sleeve. "Help me look for them. A black-haired woman, two children. A boy and a girl. Please."
Tom nodded immediately. "Of course. Everyone, keep watch!"
The scouts rose on tiptoe, scanning over heads. Horses were brought forward, riders straining to catch sight. None of them noticed the old man who shuffled past at that moment, guiding a little blond boy by the hand.
The first ship emptied completely. The crowd dispersed into the square beyond, into waiting camps. The dock quieted again, revealing what remained—stained boards, scattered bundles, corpses hauled aside with stiff hands.
Still no sign of them.
Tom bit his lip. "We didn't see them. Maybe we missed them. Why don't we try the refugee camp? Once they organize everyone, it'll be easier."
"No." Zeke's voice was firm, his jaw tight. "I must see my brother as soon as possible. The fastest way is here."
Tom frowned. "Why so urgent? If they're alive, we'll find them in camp eventually."
Zeke didn't answer. He couldn't. Time wasn't just important—it was everything. Grisha and Eren would meet. He knew they would. And when that moment came, he had to be there first.
Going to camp meant delay. Delay meant losing the chance.
Tom sighed and turned to his men. "The second ship is docking. Everyone, eyes sharp. Find them."
"Yes, sir!"
The garrison had learned from the earlier disaster. Orders barked across the deck before anyone stepped onto the plank. Passengers disembarked in neat rows, one after another, frightened but orderly. No stampede this time.
Zeke's gaze cut across every group, every cluster of children. His heart pounded.
But when the last passenger stepped off, his face fell.
Still no sign.
The air seemed to grow heavier. Tom noticed the pallor in his face and tried to soften his voice. "Don't lose hope. These ships are making round trips. If not this one, then the next. They'll be here."
Even as he said it, guilt shadowed his words. Everyone knew what the Shiganshina District had become. Those who escaped early had the best chance. Those left behind…
And the ships took over an hour to return. An hour in which everything could change.
Then Zeke's breath caught. His eyes widened, sharp as a hawk's.
"Eren!"
Without waiting, he shoved past the cordon, ignoring startled shouts.
At the very end of the gangplank, three figures appeared—two children supporting a limping woman, her face pale with pain, her leg dragging behind her.
Eren.
And Carla.
They had made it.